Speakeasy for the Soul
by snowbunnie13
Summary: Welcome to 1926 Death City, a time where prohibition reigned and the flappers rebelled, finding their alcohol in illegal speakeasies. Soul is a down-on-his-luck piano player with dreams of being famous. Maka is a student proving her place in the world. What happens when they meet?


Speakeasy for the Soul

_Welcome to 1926 Death City, a time where prohibition reigned and the flappers rebelled. Alcohol may be illegal, but you could find it if you knew where to look—the speakeasies. Death City is a shining metropolis in the middle of a desert, a beacon to all who want to make it big. Smooth jazz fills the air and dancing goes on until morning. The youth have big dreams and so many possibilities! _

Chapter 1: This one goes out to my lovely lady!

Maka tugged her cloche hat farther down her forehead. She wasn't in her element here. No, if it were up to her she'd be at the library, sitting on her favorite chair in the corner, letting the enjoyable silence wash over her. Silence was nice like that. But instead her friends, the sisters Liz and Patty, had dressed her up as if she were a flapper just like them, dragged her through alleyways in the darkest part of Death City, and passed her a glass of illegal gin at their favorite speakeasy. A glass that had been emptied—but not by her.

In all honesty, she didn't know why she didn't tell anyone about her friends' illegal drinking habits. But here she was sitting in the basement of some forgotten building, hearing others clink their glasses together to get drunk. An activity Maka was not fond of joining. She wasn't sure if she agreed with the Prohibition movement or not, but either way she didn't love alcohol all that much. It made people do stupid things, and smelled bad to boot.

Next she fiddled with the pearls around her neck. They sparkled under the dim lights over their small table. Keeping up with the latest fashion, the necklace wrapped around Maka's neck twice, lowest strand reaching down her chest.

Liz's diamond post earrings, one of her most prized possessions, lit up her wavy blonde locks more than ever. She really pulled out all the stops tonight—not that she ever did anything less. Liz always dressed in the height of fashion. If it were up to her, it would be totally acceptable to wear evening gowns in the light of day.

"We shouldn't be here, Liz!" Maka hissed.

"Don't be such a killjoy, Maka. It's only a jazz club." Liz twirled her glass around, which had a stamp of her deep red lipstick. Her makeup was straight out of a magazine, heavy and dramatic. Her eyes were lined in black kohl. Her sister's makeup was on the cute side, heavy blushing accenting her already rosy cheeks.

"Don't lie to me! This is a speakeasy! These places are against the law! You said we were going to meet your boyfriend and to dress up. I know I said I wanted to meet him but not at a place like this!"

The "place like this" was a dimly-lit room that resembled a restaurant; people were everywhere and spoke in everything between whispers in harsh tones and drunken laughter. Customers barked orders at the bar and many were smoking to their heart's content. The smell alone left a dry taste in Maka's mouth.

Everything seemed very fancy; for such a secret location from the inside it would be very inconspicuous. Weren't they even trying? If the police came and saw this grand ballroom of a warehouse, they would know exactly what they'd found!

"Oh hush, hun, prohibition doesn't mean a thing to me and you know it. You are going to _love _my dear Wesley! He's just going to _charm _you!" Liz fixed her blue eyes on both of her companions in turn. Wesley was her mysterious musician boyfriend of two weeks. Two weeks was a record for Liz; she was a true flapper at heart, and did what she wanted, when she wanted. Most boys in the neighborhood couldn't keep up with her pace. Patty was the same way. Currently she was twirling the ostrich feather on her headache band, hoping to catch the eye of the boy at the next table over.

Basically, Maka could make herself stand being here if it meant meeting the man who could stay with her friend for so long. Liz made sure to snag a table that had the best view of the stage, presently covered by an old red curtain.

The boy from the table over took a lingering glance at Maka in her sea-green dress, bland when compared to the bead-encrusted dresses her friends wore. Maka glared at him. She didn't like attention from the male gender. Her admirer turned back around when he realized he was rejected, thankfully. Maka sighed, grateful that no conflict had arisen.

"Aw, Maka, why do you have to be like that?" Patty complained, probably sore that she had been trying to capture his attention. The boy wasn't likely to take a peek at them again after Maka's death glare. Oh well. She'd find another guy to flirt with.

"Hush, girls! It's starting!"

"Oh! I'm excited!" Patty's could change her mood like a chameleon changed its color. Unlike the chameleon, however, she never blended in. In fact, her bright red dress spoke for itself. It was cut low on the chest and stop just short of her knees, its hem made out of a beaded fringe. She clapped her hands excitedly.

Someone pulled the red curtains to each side so that a band could step forth. The leader was clearly the singer, a handsome, tall man with light-blonde hair. It was obvious he was the man they were here to see, Wesley. Also on stage was a tan face behind the old piano. The piano player had the same hair as the singer, only whiter. Or, at least that's what Maka could tell from beneath his fedora. He tried a few chords, testing the tune of the instrument. It seemed to live up to his standards.

"This one goes out to my lovely lady," Wesley crooned, winking out to the audience. He blew a kiss out to Liz, who pretended to catch it and press it to her lips. His deep voice sang a jazzy love song that Liz, along with the rest of the female audience, was enamored with.

Maka was in no mood for love songs. They only brought pain to her heart. Instead she focused on the piano, which easily outshined the rest of the band. Although Maka could hardly see him underneath his hat, she could imagine him smiling slightly as he enthusiastically played his heart out. She wondered what kind of person could play like that.

Meanwhile the speakeasy's conversation picked back up, livelier than before. Nothing went better with illegal alcohol than a good tune.

…

Eventually the special performance ended, and the band packed up their instruments back stage before joining the bar. The two light-haired men approached their table. They adjusted their matching black suits.

"Wesley Evans, at your service, my lovely ladies," he swept into a comical bow, causing Liz and Patty to giggle. They'd had a glass or two. "And this is my younger brother, Soul. Greatest pianist this side of Death City."

Surly, Soul tipped his hat in greeting and said nothing. Wes shrugged; his brother probably wasn't the sociable type and this has happened before. After all, Liz and Patty had done the same when introducing their goodie-two-shoes Maka to some of their friends. Needless to say they weren't that impressed with her.

"So what'cha drinking tonight, dolls? I'll buy'ya another round." Wesley said, flirting heavily. Maka sighed; he was a smooth-talker, a personality type that she personally didn't get along with, but a girl like Liz could handle him just fine.

"Gin!" Liz and Patty raised their glasses in triumph.

"Water."

The jazzy singer relayed their order to the waiter, ordering two more drinks for him and his brother. Luckily he didn't seem to mind Maka not drinking, unlike his girlfriend, who was always trying to force her to sip, promising she'd like it. Liz, Patty, and Wes greedily gulped their drinks. Maka was at least pleased Soul merely sipped and winced. She hoped that she wouldn't have to be in the company of _four _drunken people.

"Your singing was positively a-ma-zing, Wes!" Patty smiled.

"Isn't he the greatest?" Liz added in a lovey-dovey voice.

"No, no, Liz, don't give me that much credit. I'll tell you ladies a secret," he whispered. "What I really like to do is play the violin. But that's a little classical for this band, don'tcha think?"

"No, I think the violin is absolutely darling!" Liz said. Maka doubted she cared for classical music, however.

"Do you really? I will have to play for you sometime." They shared a secretive smile. It was pretty obvious what they were thinking in that moment—anything _but _playing music in the literal sense.

"What about you, Soul? Do you play any other instruments?" Maka asked his brother. He seemed to be sober, and she longed for a coherent, not lovey-dovey conversation.

"No, I just like piano."

"Oh. Well, you're very good at it."

"Hmm. Thank you." He clearly didn't want to talk. Instead, his eyes flickered around the room as if looking for something. Maka pursed her lips, disappointed and put off by his rudeness. Oh well.

She was just about to say something else when the door to the speakeasy shot open. A man, out-of-breath, paused for a moment before yelling, "The police are coming! Everybody scram!"

The jazzy club was in an uproar. The bartender packed up his stash and stowed it in a hidden compartment. Patrons pushed their way to the doors and windows to flee. No one wanted to get caught here.

Wesley grabbed Liz's hand, which was already connected to Patty's, so they were able to stay together in the crowd, but Maka was trampled aside. It was a curse of being skinny and short; people didn't notice her. She searched blindly for her friends, but they were nowhere to be seen.

She flinched as someone grasped her arm. Her head whiplashed to see that it was Soul. "I'll show you a secret exit." He said, and dragged her past the red curtain backstage.

It was dark and dusty, but there weren't any cops back here. Soul raised a finger to his lips, and they tip-toed to a loose floorboard, which Soul easily pushed aside, revealing a cellar. The cellar was dark and suspicious; Maka couldn't see where it led or even what was down there. It sort of reminded her of a dungeon full of monsters.

"Ladies first?"

Maka didn't like him, but he knew a way out, so she accepted his hand down into the secret exit. Even if it were just so she could avoid the police. Oh, if her Papa were to find out she was at a place like this! She didn't want to imagine it at all.

Maka and Soul could hear the police car sirens getting closer, so Maka rushed down the cellar while Soul locked the door above them, pulling on a switch for a light. The room was strangely empty. Maka was lucky this wasn't where they hid the hooch*, because if they got caught with it, it wouldn't just be a night in jail that they'd be spending.

"Those steps over there lead to the alley. We'll sneak away there, okay, doll?" The white-haired pianist said. In any normal situation, Maka would object to being called "doll", but now was not the time. Soul, despite his moodiness, must have been a bit of a smooth-talker like his brother. She should have known.

Maka nodded, heart speeding up with the thought of cops at their feet. What would her Papa say if he caught her here with this strange white-haired boy? Man, really, especially with the way he wore his pinstriped suit. He would have made her blush, following her so close. What if they were waiting for them outside?

"You sure we can't just hide in here 'till they've gone?"

"Positively sure. They're going to strip this place. I didn't want to play at this speakeasy; it's been under suspicion for months, but the cops need proof. And I don't want to be there when they find it. And neither do you."

The two left the door at the end of the steps, finding themselves at a back-alley, just as Soul said. There wasn't anyone waiting for them on the other side, but someone was smashing down the front entrance, and they didn't dare move.

Maka's heart beat a mile a minute, and she was pretty sure Soul's was doing the same. His eyes flickered about, searching for an escape route. "This way," he whispered harshly, and took off running down the dark alley, avoiding the garbage cans and other rubbish that littered the ground. Maka was almost glad he continued to tug on her hand; she could hardly keep up in the heeled shoes she was wearing. At least he couldn't tell her palms were sweaty; Maka wore white opera gloves that went up to her elbows. Her free hand held tight to her cloche hat as she ran with the wind.

They had run far into the maze of alleyways and secret shortcuts, so they slowed down to catch their breath. Maka looked up at Soul as he pulled his hand back. He gave a nervous smile, which she returned.

They stood together by the side of an old brick building. The sacked speakeasy was a few blocks away, and police were still on patrol.

"Think we're safe?" Maka said.

"Let's stay here a moment. Catch my breath."

"Wait! Look! They're coming out!" She pointed back to the speakeasy. The police must have not found the hidden hooch. Maka was just glad none of her friends came out handcuffed. Cops spread out in all directions, some stopping to talk to civilians and knocking on doors. "What if they talk to us?!"

"Uh…"

Footsteps neared them. Soul looked around desperately for a plan. If they ran now, things would look suspicious. They'd bring them downtown for questioning, and Maka would be so nervous it would be obvious she was at the scene of the crime!

They were definitely going to find them. An idea sparked in Soul's head. "Hush, just go with it," he said before stepping closer to Maka, who pressed against the cold brick of the building. She stared at him, trying to discern his plan. As he moved closer all she could do was stand in a daze. Maka could smell his pleasant scent, no cologne like Liz's boyfriends would wear or the stench of alcohol like her father's.

He took one last glance at the alley and back at Maka before smashing his lips onto hers. Maka just stared at him. She'd never been kissed before. What should she do? She was just so confused she couldn't help but just stand there.

Her chance for a reaction came when he pulled away for a breath. She raised her hand for the slap of a lifetime. Soul was going to have a red handprint on his face that was going to last for a month if she said anything about it!

Neither of them noticed the policeman's flashlight.

"Excuse me sir, have you noticed anything strange about that building—" The officer said.

"Can't you see we're busy?" Soul growled. Maka's confused blinks helped the effect of two lovers caught.

"Sorry sir—hey—Maka?! Is that you? What are you doing here?!"

"Papa?!"

"Maka, your dad's a cop?!" Soul sputtered too. No wonder she was so worried about getting caught. The policeman's daughter hanging out at speakeasies…what a scandal that would be! He now feared for himself; he'd heard of overprotective cop fathers. And the stories were not pretty.

"Oh my darling angel! What are you doing with this hooligan? I'll save you!" The man, rage as red as his hair, pushed Soul aside and grabbed Maka's hand. "Leave my daughter alone, you hoodlum!" Somehow Soul wasn't impressed by his threat.

"But Papa! He's my, uh, friend!" Maka pleaded. You didn't just save a person and not call them a friend, in Maka's opinion.

"Maka!" The policeman protested. He clearly didn't like the idea of his perfect daughter being 'friends' with the weird albino man with red eyes.

"If you're going to bring me home at least let me say goodbye?" She gave him puppy eyes, which he couldn't say no to. Maka nodded, and returned to Soul.

"Sorry, Soul. I hope you're not in trouble or anything." She said, slightly sarcastic, then harshly whispered, "I'm going to find you and kill you."

He smirked. As a musician who played at speakeasies, he was always in a bit of trouble. "Don't worry about it, doll. Listen, I'll tell you a secret," he leaned in to her ear, "4242564, whenever you need him, knock on Death's door. I'll see you soon."

"Huh?"

"Bye!"

4242564, whenever you need him knock on Death's door…

…

Author's stuff

I love historical fiction, so I had to write one! I got inspired from "The Diviners", a book from Libba Bray. Also big thanks to Odat, who introduced me to Lackadaisy, which was a big help! THANKS SO MUCH!

Fanfiction Pet Peeve: Historical AU's using 2013 slang. Hate it. HATE IT. So I needed to use some 20's slang!

*Hooch- another name for illegal alcohol. You'll see that there are a lot of nicknames, and some of them are quite interesting! I'll try and use a lot of them.

So what do you think? Should I keep going? Thoughts? Questions?


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